


Hoss on the Range

by mythic0wings



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Gen, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:50:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythic0wings/pseuds/mythic0wings
Summary: Karrin Murphy never grew up around horses, never learned to ride one. No need to, until now.





	1. Tall and Lean

When Murphy heard about the scene in Lincoln park, she did not expect to see a horse surrounded by animal control officers. The horse pawed at the ground, nostrils wide while unshod hooves shifted from side to side. Its hindquarters swinging from left to right as it tried to watch them all at once. Its coat was short, a brown so dark it could have been mistaken for black, and _tall_. The horse’s shoulders were even with most of the officer’s eyes, its mane trimmed evenly but still somehow shaggy.

Even as she approached, it whinnied shrilly and reared up onto its hind legs, turning swiftly while its tail lashed and its ears pinned backwards. She could see them trying to calm the horse, soothe it, but it shied away from their touch and words. Keeping a wide berth between it and the ring of officers. This time, when it turned she came into its field of view.

She watched the horse grow still, one leg cocked and ready to lash out. Ears tentatively turning forward. By then she was level with another officer whose name tag read “Cole.” He was older than her but no more than fifty, muscled without being all that beefy and a receding hairline he didn’t bother to hide. “What’s the situation?” She asked, her hands in her jacket pockets to help with her air of calm.

Cole looked at her showing dark brown eyes then back to the horse. “We’ve got a horse but no stables are missing any, no one and no cameras saw it before someone called it in this morning. It has some scars and won’t let us near it. No one has been hurt, yet.”

Murphy grunted at that, sticking to her Martian knowledge to acknowledge his words. Returning her own gaze to the huge animal, her brows furrowing as she noticed it was still watching her. A breathy, not-quite snorting noise quivering past its nostrils.

Cole raised a brow beside her, his eyes drawn back to Murphy. “You know this horse?” He asked skeptically.

Murphy slowly shook her head, “Not much of a horse person.” But she stepped away to move forward, toward the ring of officers. Watching the horse as it watched her. The horse making another of those not-quite snorting sounds. Pawing at the earth and tossing its head in a fit of emotion.

“Looks like it recognizes you, ma’am.” The officer to her right said, his hands on his hips as he watched the animal.

Murphy didn’t add to his words, her brows drawing together as she studied it. The wide berth it left around it plus the tail lashing from side to side. At this distance, she can see patches in the dark coat where pale scars peek through. Two small dots, one on each shoulder, then a good section of scarred skin on one of its front hooves. Thin lines, barely there, were scattered all over its body in varying stages of fading. Drawing her eyes back its long face she sees the narrow line going from forehead toward its chin, skipping the eye socket. Then another peeking out from under the left nostril down to its bristly chin.

Now, she didn’t know a lot about horses, but looking at this one it just seemed to… _thin_ to her mental image of one. Not starved, but lean in a wild sort of way. Muscle stood out like cables on its legs. Wide slabs of it protecting bone and sensitive organs though it left the horse devoid of the roundness she expected.

A pit of cold settled in her stomach, cataloguing the scars, the thinness, its huge size. It took half a step forward, toward her, placing its hoof with a certain amount of awkwardness. Murphy lifted a hand, running her fingers through her chin-length hair as she blew out a heavy breath. Then she stepped forward walking slowly up to the massive horse. Its head dipped low but still somehow managing to look up at her through tangled bangs. Dark eyes to go with the rest of it, expressive but never catching her own.

When it pressed its head to her, she placed her hands under its jaw. Feeling the sharp prickly hairs on its chin, a contrast to the smoothness of the rest of its coat. Tucking her own face into its forehead she whispered, “Harry…?”

It, no, he whuffled softly. Ears turning back to rest flat against his head.


	2. Rack Up Your Hooves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy takes the first step to gathering the cavalry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking baby steps toward solving Harry's little problem that I am. 
> 
> But I've decided to place this fic post-Turn Coat and pre-Changes as I find Changes to be a big ol' ball that doesn't stop rolling until Skin Game is over. Also putting the Winter Mantle into the body of a prey animal while also subjecting Harry to keeping his humanity was a bit much this time around. If you guys, my readers, think it would be extra fun I can always go back and poke things around.
> 
> And a big ol' thanks to Demeonstarflame for pointing out some of my utterly awful grammatical errors last chapter.

Murphy felt it when Harry stiffened under her hands, drawing back with a soft noise. One ear turning to the right while his large body shifted to face the direction. She lifted her head, looking over as a woman of average height and a motherly disposition came up to them. In her hands was a long piece of braided rope with a heavy-looking clasp similar to what you’d see on a dog leash. She also had an odd-looking series of canvas straps arranged into two large loops with thin straps connecting the loops. Both pieces were a primary red and obviously new. 

Harry’s ears went back again and Murphy could hear it as his tail lashed against his sides, a heavy hoof pawing at the ground. Murphy moved one of her hands to his forehead, providing a light pressure and giving him a firm look as she felt the tension coil under her hand. “Dresden.” She hissed warningly under her breath before drawing back from him and folding her arms across her chest. Lips pursing as she watched the animal control women slide the canvas straps over his muzzle and ears, adjusting buckles and sizing it to his head. 

While this was hardly the craziest thing she’d seen or even experienced in Dresden’s company, it was him that she turned to  _ to _ explain these situations. She had no way of telling if he had magicked himself into this mess or if it was another wizard or even some entity from the Nevernever; which could include practically anything. He had been teaching Molly about magic though Murphy was unsure just how much the young woman would know. When she had met him he had seemed unending in his answers, but the depth varied subject to subject. How much had been passed onto her already? There was also the question of that perverted skull she’d seen Harry use a few times. Would it listen to her and help him? Whenever Harry had brought it out it was to a certain amount of lip and bargaining. 

The crisp sound of metal on metal brought her out of her considerations, fixing her attention back to the woman currently holding a lead attached to Harry via a loop on the straps. Seeing it on him stirred an old memory and she thought it was called a halter or a bridle, though she also wasn’t sure what the difference was. Now the woman was stroking his forehead, speaking in a soft voice that opposed the flicking of Harry’s tail. Murphy can see Harry’s skin jump and twitch; as if forcing himself to remain still. His eyes return to Murphy, trying to communicate... _something_ _._

He snorted harshly, the lead jingling with the accompanying head twitch. Lifting his head enough to draw some slack in the lead before he stepped back up to Murphy. Rubbing the flat of his nose against her shoulder. While he didn’t have words at the moment (a rare occasion) Harry was very loudly proclaiming his want to be at her side. Rather than those of the officers around them. Officers who had grouped together and were discussing what to do with Harry now that he had been caught. Caught being a lucrative term she supposed. 

His head rested heavily on her shoulder, whuffling gently. Murphy took the lead into her own hands, allowing the woman officer to join her co-workers while they decided Harry’s fate. A Harry, Murphy noticed, that seemed more subdued than normal. Not quite hopeless or tired or frustrated, but a combination of the three or even something else altogether. Cupping his cheek  Murphy stood there for almost ten minutes before Cole turned back toward her, Cole’s bottom lip caught between his teeth as if considering something. Then the balding officer blew out a breath and walked over to her.

"Ma'am, we've got to make some calls and some arrangements to find this fella a temporary home. Know a place safe we can take him?" The officer asked. 

Casting a glance at Harry she gave the officer her professionally polite smile, "I know a place were I can take him."

 

Which was how, an hour later, she stood on Michael Carpenter’s front porch at one in the afternoon, holding Harry’s red lead. Harry scraping one hoof on the sidewalk leading from the man’s driveway; a sort of awkwardness or apprehension radiating from him as they waited for the door to open. Harry had plodded beside her nearly without sound on the way there, his tall shoulder touching hers the entire time. Each step looked like it had been picked carefully. 

Watching him over her shoulder, Murphy gave him a reassuring smile. Harry’s ears rotated forward, he snorted then turned and walked away from the door. Simply allowing the lead to hang before his feet when it slipped out of Murphy’s hands. She angled herself so she wouldn’t lose sight of the door but could still keep Harry at the edge of her sights. When he did nothing more then lower his head and start ripping up tufts of grass. Well, she had never known Harry to  _ not _ be hungry. 

Ringing the doorbell she could hear it sounding throughout the large colonial home and hoped that someone was actually home. While she had fought beside Michael, fought beside Charity, Murphy knew that she didn’t have a lot of insight into how the Carpenter family functioned day-to-day. Especially now with Michael’s lamed leg. Michael and his family had never been unwelcoming to her, to anyone, but that didn’t tell her what they  _ did. _ Most of their children were in school, locally or at a university with the exception of perhaps Molly. Who was nearly drinking age and hadn’t chosen to undergo traditional secondary schooling due to her apprenticeship under Harry. 

Less than a minute passed before Murphy could hear footsteps behind the door, see the door knob turn, and swing open. Molly stood there, nearly a foot taller than Murphy, in a pair of artfully torn jeans and a tank-top in black that sported some abstract design around a logo. Today Molly’s hair was peroxide blonde and tipped with acid green and a vibrant purple, pulled back from her face in a lopsided ponytail. Clearly she hadn't been expecting a social call. “Molly, sorry for interrupting you. We have a problem.” Murphy explained calmly. 

Molly’s eyebrows lifted and she leaned forward a little, looking around the porch expectantly. “Hey Murphy, uh, where’s Harry?” She asked, keeping one hand braced on the doorknob. 

Murphy opened her mouth to speak, possibly even attempt to explain, but she stopped at the sound of heavy thuds on the ground. Turning around she couldn’t stop the eye roll as Harry, tail lifted and head held high,  _ pranced _ back into easy view of the front door. Gone was the carefully placed steps, replaced with exaggerated motions bringing his knees clear up to his chest. He came even with the door, standing to face it with his chin held up high. Lifting a hand Murphy gestured to Harry, “Right there.” 

If Murphy had ever wished for a functioning camera, it’d be right then. Molly’s mouth dropped open in her shock, too stunned for words. Nearly a minute later the young woman closed her mouth and rubbed her hand over it. “Oh. The problem is Harry.” She took in a deep breath and stepped outside to shut the door behind her. “Of course.”


	3. Snorting Up a Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comments are made, Harry gets frustrated without his words, and a decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters are short. I'll probably start to length them as I get further into the story and get the patience to write on days that I don't work.

They were set-up under the large tree in Molly’s backyard, Harry laying with his long legs tucked under him while Molly and Murphy sat cross legged. Despite being without the ability to speak Harry had insisted (though many stomps and snorts) in being included in the conversation. Which meant that Molly, her bottom lip worried between her teeth and a furrow between her brows, was trying to figure out either what had happened to Harry or maybe just the how. Leaving Murphy to sit there, waiting with her hands in her lap. 

Molly’s half-lidded eyes slid into a slow blink then came into focus, releasing her lower lip as she finished doing whatever it was she had been. Her hands rubbing over her thighs in what might have been a nervous gesture. A faint rattling coming from behind her teeth, presumably from her lingering tongue piercing. “It’s definitely a spell, but it doesn’t allow Boss to turn himself back like Billy and the Alphas. It doesn’t feel like mortal magic either though that doesn’t really narrow what did it.” She said carefully watching Harry’s face for confirmation. 

Harry nickered and bobbed his head in a nod. It was as close to an actual spoken “yes” they were ever going to get at this point. 

Murphy folded her arms at that, the fingers of one hand drumming on her upper arm. “Could you undo the spell, Molly?” She asked though she knew better than to believe it would actually be  _ that _ easy. Harry was involved after all. 

Rattle went the tongue piercing, “Not unless I wanted to end up with a bag over my head. And no head.” Molly’s reply was bitter under the nervous tic, her features tightening along with her hands. 

Taking in a long breath Murphy nodded. “Right, the Laws, Harry told me about those. Which leaves with finding what did this to Harry and why.” 

Harry stretched out his neck, nostrils wide as he breathed and nudged Molly’s hand with his nose. Her hand when she rested it on his forehead looked even paler and small against Harry’s dark coat. Harry was NBA height as a person, she supposed it only made sense him as an animal would also be larger than average. 

Seeing the moment gave Murphy a twinge of discomfort, feeling oddly intimate for the understanding Harry showed even as an animal. 

Molly composed herself, drawing her hand back into her lap. “Yeah, but lots of things can change form or the forms of others. I wouldn’t know where to start.” Molly explained with a shrug, flicking her eyes up to Murphy’s face. Catching her gaze for a bare moment before dropping it to Murphy’s nose. 

Murphy braced her elbows on her knees entwining her fingers as she looked at Harry. “Is there anything in your sub-basement that would help?” She asked, knowing his penchant for keeping secrets from just about everyone. Himself included. 

Harry’s eyes flicked to Molly for the barest second before he nodded slowly. The motion surreal on the horse body he was currently in. Muscles shifted in his face, falling short of making any sort of real expression but he lurched to his feet. Plodding in a small circle with his head tucked close to his chest, ears flattened, and his tail lashing from side to side. Frustration clear with each heavy foot fall. A blustering not-quite snort punctuating the air as he came to a stop. Digging a small furrow into the lawn when he drew his hoof over the grass. Then he pivoted on his back feet to look at Murphy directly, or as directly as Harry ever did, and huffed out a gusty breath. 

Murphy frowned, watching his behavior before pieces clicked together. The skull knew things, a  _ lot _ of things. Teens and young twentysomethings like Molly could learn a lot of things but without the frame of mind to use it properly. While she doubted that Molly didn’t know of the skull she concluded that Molly did not  _ know _ the skull. Feeling the tension in her temples Murphy rubbed the bridge of her nose. Harry did not want to show her the skull but they didn’t have much of a choice at this point. Short of calling in other wizards who probably wouldn’t come for anyone  _ but  _ Harry, no one knew enough to be of any help. 

“Nothing is ever simple with you, Dresden.” Murphy stated sourly, getting to her own feet. Harry at least had the presence of mind to dip his head in something like shame, a mute whuffle accompanying the gesture. 

Time to fetch the skull. 


	4. Harry's Not So Secret Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy checks in on Harry's humble abode to pick up some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well look at that... a decent-sized chapter for everyone. o3o I hope everyone is coming across okay, in particular Bob around Murphy. As my memory is kinda iffy and I believe when Murphy first met him Harry kind of kept Bob's attention on him instead of lipping off.

Chapter 4

 

Molly, who had lapsed into quiet, flicked her gaze between Harry and Murphy, a fine line between her brows and frowning. “What’s in his lab? I’ve been down there plenty of times and it’s full of notes and potion ingredients.” 

Murphy fought back the urge to sigh, folding her arms instead. “It’ll be easier to believe when you seen it. Trust me.” She told the young woman decidedly. “You stay here with Harry, I need to go back to Lincoln park and get my bike. Then I’ll sweep by his apartment and get something that might shine more light on this.” Brushing off the seat of her pants. “Just do your best to keep him out of any more trouble.” She said, nodding her head toward Harry. Who blew out an offended breath and stamped one hoof. Murphy thought he was substituting that for an offended remark and crossing his arms. 

Molly looked like she was holding back a smile, pinching her bottom lip between her teeth and her face a little tight. “She has a point boss, you are kind of a horse right now.” Molly said, the mirthful smile spreading over her face and giving a small shrug. She got to her own feet, stepping up to Harry and gently leading him over to the back door of her home by the lead. The steel security door looked particularly new, its shine not yet dulled with age. 

Murphy blinked at that, not expecting the heavy door on the quaint home. She swept the thought aside however, turning and starting the long trek back to the park and her Harley. 

 

The walk went a little faster than the last time, but it still took her the better part of an hour to get to the park, check over her Harley, and join the ever-existing league of traffic that plagued any decent-sized city. On her bike she navigated the streets easier than in her late Saturn, which she hadn’t quite replaced after her run-in with Harry’s level of luck. There were many times when she wondered just how Harry’s Volkswagen Beetle still survived but put it down to Harry’s own scrappiness. 

The sun was well past its zenith when she got to his apartment, the Harley’s engine a rumbling growl that she quieted where she usually saw his multi-colored car. So he’d been out on the town when it had happened. A case, maybe? If that was the (for lack of a better word) case, she hoped it wasn’t apart of their yearly save-the-world variety. Those were terrifying with him being able to use magic, much less when he couldn’t even speak. 

Putting out the kickstand and bringing it down to park Murphy withdrew a palm-sized amulet from her coat. A gift from Harry so that she could get inside his place, necessary after the beginning of the Wizard-Vampire war. He had eventually filled her in on the situation and even after so long it still felt unreal. But there had been multiple attempts on his life, even one occasion of a bomb hidden under the guise of a pizza delivery. She swore, how Harry continued to survive would have any reputable scientist chasing their own tail. 

The weight of the amulet was sleight in her hand, a light colored wood with symbols of origins she didn’t know embossed onto it. On a separate ring jingled a key to his own steel security door, though it was more mangled than the Carpenter’s. Her feet traveled down the wide steps to his basement apartment with light steps, creating virtually no sound on the concrete. She fitted the key into the lock, turned it, took the handle in hand, and braced her feet. Pushing at the door with her entire body to get it to swing open a couple inches at the time. After the first heave she heard heavy breathing on the other wide, a whining, and then the door swung open easier than before. 

Something grey and striped raced past her feet, momentarily checking itself against her shins on its way out. Mister, his thirty-pound tomcat. She’d heard Harry claim parentage from a bobcat or lynx to an actual mountain lion. Every new person got something different. Now, the shaggy mass of gray fur panting just inside the door, was another story. Mouse, Harry’s dog, probably weighed more than two hundred pounds without being overweight. Mouse had thick fur all over him, but it was particularly dense around his neck, shoulders, and chest not unlike a lion’s mane. Glittering dark eyes, just as deceptive as his owner’s, looked up at her. 

Despite a flicker of silver fear in her belly, Murphy smiled and reached out to scratch behind Mouse’s ears. “Hey boy, we found Harry. He been missing long?” She felt a little silly asking Mouse, Harry’s dog, such a question but it was debatable just how smart his dog  _ was. _

Mouse started making little happy whines, bouncing his front paws at the news. Clearly happy that Harry was alive, if not at her side. At her question though Mouse chuffed out two low barks that set her teeth on edge. Turning around to head back into Harry’s absolutely tiny apartment. Murphy followed Mouse inside, repeating the same process to shut his door that she had used to open it. 

Harry’s apartment had a studio layout, one large room with a small alcove for the kitchen and a door that housed his bedroom and bathroom. The usual scent of fresh pine was stale in the air and she could smell Mister’s litterbox. An odd wooden set that she put down to Harry’s quirkiness and his inclination to never let another soul see him actually  _ clean. _ When she had first met him, seen glimpses of his apartment, she never would have thought him capable of the compulsive sort of cleanliness he’d come into nearly ten years ago. He never talked about it and she never pushed. Her and Thomas guessed that he probably didn’t want to seem out of character with the sudden habit. 

Murphy navigated around the scattered second-hand furniture that never matched but was comfortable, flicking on her flashlight in lieu of trying his light switch. His apartment held a relative cleanliness still but it had the air of slight disuse newly vacated homes get. The lever on the faucet had suspicious dots like dried water or saliva on the handle, the sink below scattered with marks of the same. Mouse hadn’t gone without water then. The huge dog sat beside a mixing bowl that Harry insisted was his food bowl looking mournful, Mouse’s whole being drooping. 

Rolling her eyes at the clear ploy Murphy dutifully filled both bowls with the appropriate food. She had no doubts that Mister would catch something while he was out, it wouldn’t hurt to leave kibble out too. Quickly cleaning out Mister’s box she heard the muted crunching sounds as Mouse ate his food. Nearly three cups worth of food and she felt dubious would survive the next minute. 

So Harry had been gone for two days but hadn’t felt the need to take Mouse or tell anyone he might vanish; meaning he had either underestimated the situation (something she found likely) or in traditional Harry Dresden fashion, it had simply gone spiraling out of control right in front of him. One of these days she’d find a tracker that would survive him and tie it around his neck like a collar. Stupid wizards and their trouble. 

With that taken care of Murphy went to the sloppily cut piece of carpet and lifted it away from the trap door beneath. A heavy looking number she liked to compare to one you might find in an old castle. Modern was a loose word for Harry, who shorted out electronics like they were going out of style. Apparently it was part and parcel of being a wizard, a phenomenon even Harry couldn’t really explain. Unfolding the wooden staircase she ducked into his sub-basement. Unease crawled over her skin at the subtle something that hung around the trap door. Rather like a live power line but more muted. 

Going into Harry’s sub-basement, his laboratory, was like going into some avid collector’s hoard, only less organized. Three long tables framed the rectangular room, covered in all sorts of books, note paper, containers, and writing utensils. Forever looking like they might overflow onto the floor in their precarious stacks. Above those were white wire shelves sagging under the weight of yet  _ more _ odds and ends, looking ready to fall out of the wall with their load. The floor at least was bare, with the exception of a braided ring spanning three feet across. It looked like some weird combination of metals including copper and silver and a dark one that might have been iron or perhaps obsidian. 

The main focal point however, rested on the center table in his lab. A model of… Chicago? Murphy paused at the sight of the model, taking up most of the table and done in such detail she briefly wondered just what he meant to do with it. Buildings cast of pewter, roads of actual asphalt, miniature trees and street lamps and benches and chains and… everything. Blinking she stared at it, hands limp at her sides when she went up to look at the model. Harry had told her years ago that his paychecks under the Wardens hadn’t allowed him to fix his damned door. 

Big, fat, lying jerk. She was going to set his pants on fire the next time he had pants to set on fire. 

A coo, and actual  _ coo _ come from a shelf -the only wooden one of the bunch- to her right. Turning away from the OCD-level model of Chicago Murphy eyed a bleached white skull sitting on a shelf. Melted piles of wax homage to the sheer number of candles that had been there over the years rested on either side of the skull. Paperbacks with raunchy titles were stacked three high to its right and the skull was glowing. 

Well, not the skull she supposed, but its eye sockets. Orange lights dancing in the empty depths as Bob, Harry’s apparent assistant, skittered on its shelf. “He finally let you down here? Oh Harry, that old dog. Hey, tell me, did he say if it went well with that little case of his? It seemed pretty open and shut but one can never tell with Harry.” It asked, a sort of excitement in its tone as it spoke without opening the jaws of the skull. 

Raising a brow at the idle chatter Murphy tilted her head toward the massive model. “Harry’s a horse, so I’m guessing no, and what is  _ this?” _ Murphy asked sharply, an old irritation bubbling in her gut. 

Bob’s eyelights vanished for a split second, flicking down to the model then back to Murphy. Then it laughed. It laughed so hard the skull itself rattled on the wooden shelf. “So perfectly ironic! I just knew that nickname would get around on day! What I would not give to see this!” He chortled in between, well, not breaths, but some approximation of them. Completely ignoring her question. 

“Hey!” She barked, cutting through the skull’s laughter. “What is this?” She asked against, jabbing a finger in the direction of the model but without touching it. 

Bob immediately quieted, its eyelights drifting past her to the model. “Harry calls is Little Chicago, it’s a tool. A very complicated, very exacting tool. It’s how he got the Billy Goats running all around Chicago almost two years ago. It almost blew up in his face once, instead it just melted a hole in the table.” It explained in an off-hand matter, as if it wasn’t of importance. 

Murphy stared a bit more openly at the model now, shying a half-step away from it. Just what was Harry keeping in his basement? Things that went boom apparently. Taking a breath to compose herself she walked up to the skull on its shelf, took it into her hand and walked back toward the staircase. 

“Excuse me, cop girl, where are you taking me?” It asked tartly, as if offended that she was manhandling it. 

“You will call me Murphy, and I’m taking you to Harry. Like I said earlier, Harry is a horse and we need to turn him back.” Murphy scolded the skull, shutting the trap door behind her. Mouse padded up to her side following her to the door where she clipped his leather leash onto his collar, grabbed a backpack from where it hung by the door, stuffed the skull inside to Bob’s indignant yelp, and heaved the steel door open with Mouse’s help. 

“I’m going to call a cab for you Mouse since you don’t fit on my Harley. I think Harry would appreciate your moral support.” She told the massive dog, watching as he chuffed in agreement then padded up the stairs and around the old boarding house. Probably to go to the bathroom before the cab ride. The cabbie would probably give her an odd look but they could have worse company than Mouse. They could have his owner, or his lab assistant. A lab assistant who had gone quiet in the backpack, as if used to shutting up when contained inside it. True to her word she powered on cell phone (she’d turned it off on the way to the Carpenter’s) and called a cab to Harry’s house. Leaning on her Harley as she settled in to wait until it got there. 

 

By the time it did, Mouse was sitting patiently at her side, jaws open in a doggy grin and soaking up the fingers scratching behind his ear. The dog lazily following behind Murphy as she went up to the door and held it open. Mouse climbed inside causing the cab to dip and shift with his weight. Settling onto its shocks with Mouse’s simple weight. The dog pretty much took up the whole of the cab by himself. Going up to the passenger window Murphy leaned down a little when the cabbie obliged and rolled it down. Tilting her head back at Mouse she said, “Take him to this address in Bucktown, keep the change.” Then she handed the cabbie a folded fifty. “He’ll be a good boy, right, Mouse?” She told the cabbie, directing the last of it toward Mouse, who simply panted with that huge dopey grin he always wore. His tail thump, thump, thumping against the car door. 

Cabbie accepted the fifty and gave her the expected look that they thought she were a bit looney, which Murphy brushed off with practice. 

Murphy stepped back from the cab, letting it pull into traffic as she went back to her Harley. Taking out her phone to turn it off she blinked at the missed call. It must have come when her phone had been powered down. Under that notification was a voice mail, presumably left from the same caller. Calling voicemail and entering her password she put the phone to her ear. 

“Ms. Murphy, this is Cole, the animal control officer from Lincoln Park. Double J Riding Club has a spot open for the horse as we’re coming to the address you gave us earlier to pick him up. They’re a reputable stable, good people and volunteers. They can help find him a home or train him for one of their programs. Call us back when you get this message.”

Shit. Shit, shit, and more shit. Murphy finished checking her voicemail, her face pinching as her lips pursed and running a hand over her face. Oh this was not good, they weren’t even close to solving Harry’s problem and trying to tell animal control to let him stay in Molly’s yard just wasn’t going to fly. Turning off her phone she hopped onto her bike and brought it up to a ripping roar. Leaving the gravel lot at a speed much higher than recommended for any sane person. Already she knew she wasn’t going to like what she saw at the Carpenter’s when she got there.


	5. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob takes time to remind everyone of things they already know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /pokes out of her trashcan/ Not dead just... crafting. It's costume season and my past three weekends have been lots of crafting. But here this is, as usual it isn't edited but I'll comb back over this and chapter 4 before Tuesday ends. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 5

 

She did not like what she saw. 

Across the street from the Carpenter’s house was a large pick-up with a hitched trailer designed for livestock. Closer to the Carpenter’s was a box-y sort of truck animal control was fond of using for dog pick-ups. Now in the driveway of Michael’s house was a white truck with two rear wheels plus a minivan of light blue she’d heard Molly call the “sandcrawler” a few times. Officers and volunteers were scattered in the front yard, trying to herd Harry closer to anyone else while he skirted around them. Twitching the lead away with a jerk of his head or simply tugging it out of their hands to slip past them. In a way it reminded her of Harry running around to avoid monster attacks. Trying to keep a balance of distance but be within strike range of an attack. Magic or otherwise. 

Parking her Harley at the very end of the Carpenter’s drive-way Murphy walked up to where Molly stood before her father and her mother. Molly had her arms folded across her chest, glancing back to where Harry was dancing around the folks who simply wanted to help what they believed to be a lost animal. 

“... but Murphy should be back soon, Harry should listen to her.” Molly finished saying, her fingers teasing the fabric of her shirt. 

Murphy raised a brow, taking note of the cane clutched in Michael’s hand and the tension in Charity’s body. Brought up to speed then, good. “Harry being stubborn?” She asked, closing ranks with the Carpenters. 

Molly’s arms fell away from her at Murphy’s voice, hands planting on her hips. “Every time I try to get him into the trailer he just digs in his heels and stays put. When I get him to move back so I can move him forward he jerks that stupid lead away from me or rears up. I tried to explain that we have to go along with the stable people but Boss is being a, well, he’s being Boss.” Molly explained, flicking a glance at her father at the end of her triad. Then she pursed her lips, one hand coming up to rub at her temple, a tightness around her eyes. 

Harry called Molly a “sensitive,” said that she could pick up emotions from other people; probably without trying. Right now there were a lot of people in the yard and Murphy doubted Harry was in control of his emotional facilities. 

“Boss is kind of… all over the place.” Molly added in a softer voice, her face relaxing after a moment. Her arms folding again but the gesture seemed defensive, worried. 

Michael put a hand on Molly’s shoulder squeezing it lightly. “We’ll get him to understand, Molly.” He said simply, a light smile on his worn face. Dressed in old jeans and a dirt-smeared white t-shirt. Michael was thinner now, his muscular frame diminished from being unable to walk for most of a year and then slowly getting back onto his feet. Michael would probably never get back to when he was in the Service, but he seemed to be taking it in stride. 

Charity, on the other hand, was as strong as Murphy had ever known her. Her muscled frame built up from years in a smithy and raising strong children. Murphy’s seen her love, her strength, in action almost four years ago. It had made an impression. Her eyes were following Harry, a mixed expression on her face. Caught somewhere between exasperation and apprehension. Probably for the same reason Murphy kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Harry and mayhem went hand-in-hand on the best of days. She turned to her daughter and offered a soft but comforting smile, “It’ll work out, dear.” 

With the situation coming together now Murphy simply shakes her head, exasperated herself at Harry’s stubbornness. “Should have turned him into a mule.” She muttered but nodded to the three oldest Carpenters before walking, once again, into the circle of officers around Harry. Again, Harry sees her, his ears rotating to the front and he comes right up to her. His trot is smoother now, like he’s getting used to the gangly legs he’s been saddled with, and he blusters out a heavy breath. Similar to his old frustrated expression though not quite matching. 

Murphy takes the red lead in hand when Harry stops in front of her. Keeping her face and body posture stern. “Harry, you can’t stay with Molly. Get in the damn trailer.” Conscious of those around her, she keeps her voice low. Unsure of how they would take her talking to this horse like it was a person. 

Harry’s ears flattened against his skull now, turning his shoulder to her and tucking his head to his chest. The solid thump of a hoof on earth joining the gesture. As big as a “no” Murphy had seen since that morning. 

“Harry, cut this crap right now. We aren’t  _ allowed _ to keep you at her house. Trailer, now.” Murphy scolded him, tugging his head several inches from his chest. 

Lash, lash, stomp. Physically shaking his huge head only to shift so his flank pressed to Muprhy’s shoulder. Tugging the lead, and her arm, as he did so. When Murphy had to relent two quick steps because of it however he peeked back at Murphy. Dipping his head low and drawing a slow step back to let up on some of the tension of the lead. Whuffling softly in apparent apology. 

Murphy patted Harry’s stocky shoulder to show her acceptance. Even if it didn’t stop her from turning him toward the road, pointing at the trailer. “We’re working on it, I got Bob but you know he won’t say a peep in front of all of these people.” 

Harry’s head drooped lower, pointedly shoving it under one of Murphy’s arms so she either had to fall over or grab hold of him. She chose not to fall over. 

Murphy exhaled gently, patting one massive cheek. “You’re a sap, Dresden. Scared of one little trailer.” That earned her a reproachful huff of air.  

The opening and closing of a car door alerts those present to Mouse climbing out of the cab, dragging his lead and doggy grin out in full force. His huge head swings one way then the other and back again, checking for cars. Mouse then trotted across the street, bypassed the carpenters, and up to Harry and Murphy. Whining softly as he looks up at the wizard-turned-horse. 

For a split second Harry’s whole body freezes with tension at the sight of Mouse, purely reacting to the big dog before it slides out of him. Whickering gently, bracing as much of his weight on Murphy as he dared. One hoof leaving the ground to reach out to Mouse as if Harry meant to pat him on the head, only drawing back as the action catches up to him. 

Mouse, to the dog’s credit, brought his wide muzzle up to Harry’s and gave it several licks. 

Murphy had to shift her balance, partially withdrawing her arm as Harry jerks his head back. Blustering out a breath but not before Murphy caught a familiar shade of mirth in Harry’s large brown eyes. The moment is broken when Cole from the park, comes up to Murphy’s side. Lips pursed and looking puzzled. 

“He comes right up to you, huh?” Cole commented, folding his arms lightly across his chest. 

Murphy shrugged one shoulder, a wry smile touching her face at the man’s words. She does not miss when Cole eyed Mouse, as if expecting another lost pet. “Evidence does speak to that conclusion. This is Mouse, my friend’s dog, I figured he’d be of help.” She told the officer, placing a gentle emphasis on the word “friend.” 

Cole gives Mouse a second glance, vague surprise in his features but when Mouse offers a dinner-plate sized paw he shakes it, grinning down at the dog. “I see. Think we could get the big fella into the trailer? I promise it’s a short ride from here.” 

Murphy turned from Cole to the Carpenters then finally to Harry. Arching a golden brow when she sees the pinned-back ears and Harry’s head angled away from her. “We’ll get him in.” She assured the officer alongside a polite smile. Starting up a swift and confident stride toward the hitched trailer. For two steps Harry let the lead pull tight, very nearly pulling Murphy to a stop. At least until Mouse stood up on his back paws and placed his front ones on Harry’s rump. The pooch’s simple weight urging Harry forward. Mouse awkwardly walking behind on his back legs to keep Harry moving forward. 

Harry did a full body jerk when he first stepped onto the metal ramp of the trailer, maybe shocked or simply reacting to the feeling and the sound. A heavy hollow thud resounding in the air with each step. Harry allowed Murphy to walk him all the way into the back, Mouse dropping onto all fours and sitting on the rubber-covered floor. Somber with watchful brown eyes. 

Murphy didn’t bother to try tying Harry to the metal ring welded to the wall, instead swinging the backpack to her front and removing Bob before the honest officers or volunteers followed them in. 

Bob’s eye lights kindled to life as soon as he cleared the pack, not even bothering to make a perverted comment when he saw Harry. “Hoo boy, Boss, got yourself into trouble again.” 

“It’s possible to turn him back, right?” Murphy asked without preamble, knowing time was limited. 

Bob shifted enough in her hands to focus one glowing eye onto Murphy. “Yes, it is possible. Find the fairy, kill the fairy, and we’re plus one wizard.” He stated calmly, but something in his tone was off. 

Murphy turned her gaze skyward, lips pulling thin as she prayed for patience. Of course it was fairies. Still, something nagged at her. “Where do we look then, Dresden doesn’t ever get into trouble without a time crunch.” Plus, she admitted to herself, not having Dresden around and  _ knowing _ only a small part of what was out there scared the pants off of her. 

Bob’s eyes flicked to Harry, who was huddled in the corner, dimming. “Well, I can’t say for sure, it’s not really a Point A to Point B kind of thing. Beings move and the cupcake is still learning. As for your “time crunch” I don’t have a time stamp. Say, do you remember that report Boss gave you? About the werewolves?” 

Murphy rubbed her forehead with her free hand, putting the “cupcake” comment aside as she searched her memory. “Concerning the hexenwolfen and the loup garou right? It’s fuzzy, they don’t crawl out of the wood works like vampires.” 

“Those and two others, the lycanthropes - your Street Wolves- and regular werewolves; those Alphas who follow Dresden like kindergartners. Well, we have something similar to them here. Another creature, or possibly a mortal lackey, turned Boss. Frankly, Boss is lucky he’s still Boss.” Bob continued not quite meeting Murphy’s eyes. 

Murphy went still, staring at Bob in her hand. “Still Harry?” She repeated feeling a chill descend over her. 

“I do suppose it’s been awhile, but yes,  _ still Harry. _ Transforming someone else shatters their psyche. Immediately, maybe even over time. Same result. No more person just an animal. I can’t even say how long Harry will  _ be _ Harry.” Bob drawled, his eye lights winking out. Hollow footsteps echoing in the trailer. 

Just an animal. 

The cold feeling coalesced in her gut, a rock of unease and tight fear holding her tongue. Murphy found herself drawn to Harry’s face, at the large brown eyes that even now, did not meet hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoss is another term for a horse and with the number of times Harry gets called that I just HAD to do it. I'll update as I can and we'll see how long this thing drags itself out and what kind of Dresden-level trouble I want to brew up. x3


End file.
